“And no one else.” Dad sighs and sets his mug on the table. Clasping his hands in front of him, he leans in. “Dealla, I don’t give a damn if you wanna spend the rest of your life in some opium den, sleeping with a cult leader to get your fix—”
“Dad!”
“Okay, so I would care. Please don’t do that. You’d give me a heart attack, and that ain’t the way I wanna go. What I mean is, I want you to be happy. And honestly? You seem lonely. Yeah, you spend time with Luci and Tristan, but who else? Ashton doesn’t count as social interaction, either.”
“Dad, I’m fine.” I blow out a breath and wipe a hand over my face. After a moment, I meet Dad’s gaze. “Fine. If I promise to make more friends, will you stop worrying so much?”
“Sure. Now tell me about this friend you’ve made.”
It’s said as a request, but it sounds more like an iron-clad demand to me. I relent and tell him about Holden, about how kind and funny he is. How we met in the coffeeshop and it felt like we’d been friends for a lifetime. How, though we live in separate states, we’ve been making the friendship work. I say nothing of his profession or the physical reactions I have to just thinking about him. Dad doesn’t need to hear about the heat between my thighs when I remember the mistake I made with Holden or the tingles that run up my spine or the flutter of my heart in my chest. That last one is something I can’t explain, even if I tried. Especially not since I’ve told Holden I want nothing to do with a real relationship.
“He’s a good cook, too,” I tack on at the end as the server sets our food on the table, and Dad’s gaze darts to my face.
“He stayed for dinner?”
“Yeah, he came over to hang out, and we lost track of time. Oh, c’mon, Dad, don’t give me that look. Don’t make a big deal out of this. Holden is just a friend.”
“’Den?”
Both my dad’s and my heads whip around to stare at Ashton who shovels a handful of pasta into his mouth. I close my eyes when Dad looks at me pointedly. Admitting with no small amount of hesitation that Ashton had met Holden, I plead with him to not make it seem bigger than it is. Dad presses his lips together tightly, examining my face, then promises he won’t. I slump in my seat at his words. That’s one less worry for me to have on my mind.
He pays once we’ve finished eating, while I wipe cheese sauce from Ashton’s face and hands. I feel awful about the seventy dollars Dad is dropping on lunch—it’s bad enough he always pays for our meals and that he’s already paying my rent and utilities while I’m in school. I’m well aware of how lucky I am. I just hope my father doesn’t feel like I’m taking advantage of his kindness.
After buckling Ashton into his carseat, Dad faces me. “I meant what I said, Dealla. I want you to be happy, and if this Holden guy makes you happy…”
“He’s just a friend.”
“Okay, okay. If you say so. Love you, kid. Drive safe.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
I hug him tightly, my eyes squeezing shut with the contact. He steps back, walks away to his rental truck, while I get into my car. Once I buckle my seatbelt, I glance in the rearview mirror. Ashton beams back in his own. I know Dad will have too many questions, ones I’m not sure I can answer.
Eyes still closed, I stumble toward the front door, cursing when my toe hits the wall. I yawn and rub at my eyes, opens them long enough to reach the front door. I pull it inward with more force than necessary only to come up short. Holden smiles apologetically and kisses my forehead as he passes.
“I know it’s ridiculously early, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s... fine? Ash will be waking up soon, anyway.”
“He’s here?”
“Yep. Katie’s on overnights for the next three days. Did you sneak in again?”
“What can I say? I’m a ninja.”
“Or the people in this building trust too easily.”
My prediction comes true not even thirty seconds later: Ashton’s small voice calls out for me before the child in question appears in the doorway to my bedroom. I open my arms and pull him in against my chest once he’s within reach. He rests his head on my shoulder and stares at Holden with wide eyes. I catch myself staring, too, and shake myself free from my distraction. Clearing my throat, I turn on my heel and set Ashton in his highchair.
“What brings you by?” I ask over my shoulder as I dig through the cupboard for the box of oatmeal packets that I know is hiding from me.
“I, well, I just wanted to see Ashton.”
“Oh, it’s all about him, isn’t it?” I giggle and look at my nephew. “Hear that, little dude? You’re a hot commodity.”
Ashton blinks at me then smacks his tray. Laughing, I move to the fridge to grab his cup of milk. He drinks greedily while I prepare a bowl of instant oatmeal and pop it into the microwave. Holden perches on a stool and watches me move. I pretend I can’t feel the weight of his gaze on my skin. If I focus hard enough on peeling and slicing up an apple, I can almost forget there is an undercurrent of want coursing through my blood.
The last couple of weeks have been wonderful. I’d aced my exams before summer break, even hung out with a few people from my Political Science class. With new friends and old taking up the time I didn’t spend with Ashton, I’ve been happier than I can remember being for a long time. All of the peace is compounded by the constant text messages and video calls with Holden. This is the first time he’s come to visit, busy with recording a new album and preparing for the tour that comes next. I don’t mind. We’re only friends with benefits, after all. But... Somehow, whatever we have feels more like a long-distance relationship than something casual.
